Chapter 5 - The Voice on the Line
I didn't yell. I didn't raise my voice. I simply leaned back against the kitchen stool, staring at the forged deed on the counter.
“You’re in holding, Mother,” I said quietly. “And that’s where you’re going to stay.”
There was a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. “Are you out of your mind? I raised you! I sacrificed everything for you after your father died! And now you’re turning your back on me over a little kitchen drama and a lazy wife who can’t even keep the house clean?”
“She wasn't keeping the house clean because you forced her to scrub floors while our son had a 102-degree fever,” I replied, every word dripping with ice. “And she wasn't lazy—she was starving while you and your friends gorged yourselves on seafood bought with money you stole from us.”
“Stole?” Teresa shrieked, her voice pitching into hysterical denial. “That money was compensation! For all the years I spent wiping your nose and paying your college tuition! That house is mine—the court will see the deed! Mason filed it legally!”
“Mason forged my signature,” I corrected her calmly. “And so did you on the equity lines of credit. The state’s attorney general’s office is already reviewing the financial wire logs. Embezzlement, elder fraud, forgery, and conspiracy to commit real estate theft are federal-level felonies in Tennessee, Mother. You’re looking at ten to fifteen years. Without parole.”
The line went dead silent. The only sound was the distant hum of the jailhouse background noise through her receiver.
“Connor...” her voice suddenly dropped into a pathetic, wheedling tone, the classic manipulation tactic she had used on me since childhood. “Connor, please... we’re family. We can fix this. Just drop the charges. Tell the police it was a misunderstanding. We can sell the house together, split the profits, and—”
*Click.*
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I hung up the phone, blocked her number, and tossed the device onto the table.
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